


Book 4: Heartless Rule

by BepisPerfected



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 07:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29131890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BepisPerfected/pseuds/BepisPerfected
Summary: A continuation from Book 3
Collections: Paar Jun; a Biographical Account of Ambition





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Appendix of terms: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29132244

#  Book 4: Heartless Rule

As recorded by Dremora Tzukyl, Palace Scribe.

##  Chapter 1

In the aftermath of the Culling of the Vigilant, Imperial weapons were found amongst the charred remains. Paar Jun considered this revelation as he turned his attention back to his Wardens. Very little had come of their continued deployment, and he decided that their capabilities were wasted on otherwise managerial tasks.

Veysan was given orders to patrol the coastline of the Authority for pirates or foreign ships looking to take advantage of the change in leadership, starting from Solitude and sailing through the northern Sea of Ghosts to the Padomeic Ocean at the west and into the Southern Sea, where he would make port in the Argonian capital of Lilmoth until he received new instruction. With Houses Redoran, Telvanni, and Sadras supporting the Authority in Morrowind, Kinol was redeployed to Blackight and given jurisdiction to oversee province's reconstruction and reintegration of House leadership over their ashen territories. To aid this, the Warden was granted command over the Dov Nahvulkein as his enforcer.

The replaced Keksa worried that the Lord Conqueror would demote her position further, though Jun approached her with a far greater task. Caldra had helped him realize that her breaking of the Battle of Blacklight was not mere lucky insubordination, but an effective tactical move, and that blend of creativity, independence, and leadership was far more valuable than he had given her credit for. As such, he could think of no better candidate to spearhead his most ambitious task yet: the invasion of Cyrodiil.

Over the next year, she recruited soldiers from across the Authority to join a Combined Army of Ebonheart. Dunmer battlemages, Orcish berserkers, Reachfolk ravagers, Nordic warriors, and Giant barbarians were recruited to join the ranks and secretly moved into Imperial territory. The difficulty of the endeavor was avoiding the ire of the large cities so as not to alert the Imperial Legion to their movements. Instead, Jun wanted her to build war camps to spread the Authority’s influence while they prepared to strike. He also provided her with a transportation tome to the Palace of Apocrypha, so he could be directly connected to the Army. Keksa's plan was to set up camps in old Ayleid ruins to create defensible positions far from population centers. She began by sending a small team of Reachmen and Nord scouts from Skjoralmor south, quietly moving through the Heartlands and into the Great Forest west of Chorrol to their destination of Lindai. They made camp in the Ayleid ruins on the 6th of First Seed, 4E 215, and spent the next two months monitoring Imperial activity in the region. Reports concluded that not only were road patrols lax, but most of the old imperial fortresses were in disrepair. Keksa approved further troop movements to Lindai and ordered her larger force to prepare for deployment. This second army was to move through the Valus Mountains from Naris and into the mudflats of the Nibenay Basin south of Cheydinhal. They set up their own outpost in Nagastani on the 24th of Second Seed, then sent a detachment west across the Niben River into the ruins of Sardavar Leed on the 3rd of Midyear. 

As the Authority presence within Imperial lands increased, so too did their requirements for land and defensibility. Keksa instructed her camps to take advantage of the poor state of Imperial garrisons and assume command of the nearby abandoned forts. The main battalion at Nagastani expanded to fill out the crumbling walls of Blue Road Keep, with Sardavar Leed taking over derelict Fort Alessia and Lindai manning the remains of Fort Ash. This approach was two-fold, both to ensure that they could house their building army without keeping them in cramped conditions, and secondly to have an irrefutably staunch territorial claim in place when Jun decided to make his move. 

In scouting the areas around Lindai for another stronghold on the West, some of Keksa's men discovered a tribe of Minotaurs who had settled into the Alessian ruins in the warm coldcorn glade. Following the Lord Conqueror's example of the Giants, the Warden decided to attempt an alliance with the beasts. She and a group of her most capable travelled to the tribe and requested to speak with their chieftain. She was met by a towering behemoth of a minotaur, nearly as tall as Gerthok and with horns as long as her tail. He proclaimed himself as Goar Ironhoof, Bull of the Ironhoof clan, and ordered the invaders off his land. Keksa responded saying that she was here to speak with him, though he cut her off with a snarl before she could explain why. Before either side could break out into fighting, a shaman appeared behind the Bull and convinced him to hear the Xiuthan out, for she had at least come peacefully instead of warmongering like the local Imperials. Goar huffed, but permitted her to say her piece, and the Warden explained that she wished to employ the Minotaurs in the Combined Ebonheart Army. They were exceptional warriors and did not deserve the disrespect dealt to them by the Cyrods. The Argonians too were once considered lowly savages, though the conquests of the Authority proved otherwise. Should the Minotaurs join the Army, their service would be rewarded with citizenship equal to all others. The Authority could offer them a far better life than scrounging through old ruins. The Bull considered the offer, though he had no intention to bow to some weakling. Keksa challenged him to prove her worth and that of her union, a proposition the arrogant Minotaur eagerly accepted.

The pair met in a nearby clearing, with Goar wielding an angular blade more reminiscent of a butcher's cleaver than any greataxe the Warden had seen. He mocked and charged her, though she managed to expertly evade each one of his swings. Keksa was well versed in Ziirokein, having studied directly under Nahkiir, and had developed her own branch of the art that worked with her preferred weapon, a heavy studded kanabo. By swinging in turn with muttered chants of the Tongue, she could make the hefty weapon flow through the air like driftwood on the waves in a form she called _Nosbokein_. In an expert demonstration of this style, Keksa delivered a beating of fluid strikes against an opponent nearly twice her size, managing to overcome the powerful Minotaur and pin him to the ground without killing him. Goar was astounded that someone so small could hit so hard, and though his pride was wounded, he could not rightly back down from their offer in front of his whole tribe. As such, he pledged the Ironhoof Clan to the Combined Ebonheart Authority and the whole tribe accompanied her back to Lindai.

While Goar and most of his clan remained in the west, she brought a number of warriors back to Nagastani to act as perimeter guards and scare away any wandering adventurers. The Minotaurs, though brutish and pungent, were surprisingly knowledgeable at how to maintain a low profile in the wilds while also being able to defend one's territory, a fine line to walk and one that gave Keksa an idea. Authority troops in the forts were given orders to disguise themselves as bandits and highwaymen to rob merchant caravans as they passed. Shipments with particularly heavy guards were to be attacked by the fort's compliment of Giants and Minotaurs, so as to dissuade retaliation against a superior foe. Trade in Cyrodiil languished from supposedly unsafe roads, and the lack of leadership in the Imperial City took the blame. Goods collected from these raids were used to feed and maintain the troops, or otherwise moved back to the Authority to be sold. 

The Warden continued to strike covertly against the Imperials while she waited for the rest of Jun's plans to fall into place, though the longer the Army stayed the more endangered they became. Legion squads sent to clear out the supposed bandit menace perpetrated by her forces were a constant irritation. Determined soldiers were the worst; making an entire squad disappear without rising suspicion was nigh impossible. And if that wasn't enough, the wildlife had grown accustomed to their presence and were growing bolder by the day, Wolves, bears, trolls; she might have been angry if not for the supply of meat and pelts. However, sightings of snake-like Lamia on the shores of Lake Poppad were enough to urge her to action. They seemed to be living in the nearby cavern of Muck Valley, and some of the soldiers in camp were worried they might slither out in the night to feast upon those on patrol. Keksa knew that the danger of the serpents was matched only by their intelligence, and repeat her strategy with the Minotaurs before any conflict could break out. On the 8th of Sun’s Height, she took her best soldiers to the cavern where the Lamia festered.

The snakes were quick to charge her, but she pushed them back with a word of the Tongue and announced clearly that she was here to speak, not fight. Much of Tamriel saw Lamias as little more than vicious slithering monsters, but she believed that they were formidable fighters worthy of respect and wished to recruit them. The snakes parted as the Warden was approached by the leader of the serpents, Domina Miranae. The black-scaled snake stated that respect was not a river; it must flow both ways. She asked the Warden what a morsel like her could possibly do to earn such a thing. Keksa stated proudly that she was one of the greatest warriors to grace the continent, second only to her good friend and mentor Nahkiir. Impressed by her confidence, Miranae decided to put that to the test and challenged her to a contest of dominion.

The two faced off at either side of a sunken grotto, Keksa with her trusty kanabo and the Domina with the hooked sword of one of her victims. Miranae struck first, electrifying the water with a sustained spray of lighting while the Warden jumped above it, using her maul as a pole vault to launch herself onto a raised rock and sprung again towards the Lamia. She dropped the lighting to use both hands to brace her sword against the heavy hit. The Domina blocked the kanabo successfully, though as she was pushing Keksa off the Xiuthan swung her legs out and kicked her in the stomach. As the Lamia keeled over, the Warden cracked her on the head hard enough to send her tumbling back into the water.

Keksa brushed herself off and strode over to claim an easy victory. The Lamia rubbed her jaw and admitted that her opponent got a good hit in, though just as the Warden neared, she was smacked back by a muscular tail. Miranae cackled and added that she could hit just as hard. Keksa grinned and spat blood, then charged her with maul raised high. Blade crashed against club as the two dueled, though the Domina was surprised by the impact of the weapon given how light it seemed in the Xiuthan’s hands. Keksa broke her chants at the height of a swing to belch a word of fire into the Lamia’s face, and the full weight of the blunt kanabo dropped on the Domina’s peak. Her claws snapped to the side of her skull as she reeled in pain, and when she finally opened her eyes, she saw Keksa raising her own sword to her neck. Miranae snorted that there might be something to the Warden’s arrogant brag, to which she replied that it is not arrogant if she could back it up. The Domina scoffed and smirked, then challenged her to another test.

Miranae explained that combat prowess was all well and good, but the dominant Lamia of a group was determined not by the strength of her body, but the strength of her voice! A true Lamia should have the song of a lovesick siren and the shriek of a grieving harpy. As the defending Domina, it was custom she go first. Miranae began with test of shrieks, letting loose a howl so piercing that the rocks above cracked and stalactites rained from the ceiling. As the Lamia reveled in her display, Keksa focused her breathing. She whispered a silent prayer for the Voice of Kaan and the Force of Bo’Weexa, that her words may strike as hard as her kanabo. She inhaled, felt the fire of the Tongue in her lungs, and released a scream so sharp and intense that it drove back the water around her and sent great waves through the grotto. The Domina staggered upright as she recovered, and conceded to the challenger this test. However, this was just one of two.

She proclaimed that moving great masses of air was impressive, but it is the art of weaving air intricately where true mastery lies. Miranae raised herself to her full height and cleared her throat for the test of songs. She began with a belting operatic lament for a man so handsome that he fell in love with himself, and became so lost in his reflection in a handheld mirror that he walked from Bravil all the way to Black Marsh, where a swarm of flesh-flies ate his face off. The disfigured man was rejected from every town he visited, camping with beggars and brigands until he learned how to enjoy the company of others, and after many years found love with a blind seamstress. Miranae was a peerless vocalist, her high notes sending shivers through the scales of her audience, her lows resonating through the rocks and rippling the water. She injected such passion behind her song that the Warden had to blink hard to stop herself from wiping her eyes. The Lamia finished on a note so loud and long it seemed to fill the heavens and stretch all the way to the twin moons. The Domina descended and sat back on her tail, waiting to hear the Xiuthan’s attempt.

Keksa knew all too well that she could not even hope to compete with the harmonies and emotion had displayed; she could barely even sing in the first place. However, she knew a lullaby that the egg-tenders used to sing in the nests of Xiutha. It told the story of a child who fell into a basket and was carried away by a river into the deep marsh. The hatchling happened across the Raftreaver, a ferocious Haj-Mota the size of ten huts, and asked for help to escape the woven prison. The huge turtle complied and drove his bladed head up to smash the basket just as it would to break a barge, hoping to make the child his next meal, but the hatchling was so small that he flew up forever and the Hist trees had to grow their branches up to the stars to bring him back down. The song was meant to remind new parents of the dangers of the marsh, but also that no matter what their child’s soul would return to the Hist. Caution and comfort combined, but delivered with unconditional care. The melody of the lullaby was boorishly simple and Keksa’s voice caught even on the rhythmic shifts in pitch, though she was so engrossed in the memory that she felt as though she was back home in Xiutha merely listening to the egg-tenders as they worked. It was their words that rose from her lungs and danced in her voice. She choked on the last verse, suddenly brought back to the present, and sputtered the ending. Miranae acknowledged the effort of the Warden, though declared that she had definitively failed the test. Still, the Lamia noted that the best performances came when the singer felt it in the depths of her being, and despite the Warden’s lack of talent she had the heart to carry it. Keksa swallowed and forced her cocky grin, shrugging that she felt it only fair to give the Domina a fair chance after losing the last two tests, which made the Lamia laugh.

Miranae announced that the Warden must have a serpent in her family, for no warm-blood could challenge a Domina and put up such a fair fight. Indeed she was a force to be reckoned with, perhaps even one deserving of their loyalty. Though, all blood spills the same. If Keksa wanted the Lamias to risk their blood for her, she had to show she was willing to do so as well. Deeper into the Valley lay the Stolen Fang tribe of goblins. They had been the bitter rivals of the Lamia for years, with each side trying to claim more territory in the cavern. Miranae stated that she was ready to follow the Warden away from this place, but did not want to give the goblins the satisfaction of taking it over. She demanded that the soldiers exterminate every last one of the menaces and bring back their bone totem as evidence, since the goblins would rather die than lose it. Keksa puffed up confidently and she and her team marched valiantly deeper into the chasm of Muck Valley. Miranae and the other Lamia waited patiently for them to return, hearing the distant rumble of calamity like rolling thunder and just as frequent. At one point the cavern shuddered enough to loosen a few pebbles above the entryway, and the Domina briefly worried that it might collapse with the violence. Still, she did not interfere.

Her fortitude was rewarded when the Warden and her team emerged hours later. They bore wounds and burns of a brutal conflict, such as long scar Keksa had earned that stretched from the top right side of her head, behind her eye, down her cheek, and across the edge of her mouth. Two of the soldiers were being carried on the backs of their colleagues. Still, Keksa managed a smile with the undamaged side of her face and presented the bone totem to the Domina. It appeared to be a rain stick crafted from the femur of a great stag, though the Lamia removed a feather-lined cap on one end and poured out a handful of serpentine fangs. She explained that the goblins got their name from taking the teeth of every one of their victims as trophies. She thanked Keksa for retrieving it and stated that she would see to it that the remains were properly interred. As for the matter of leadership, Miranae announced that the Xiuthan had proven herself a capable warrior and provided her people with vengeance over their oldest foes. She would consider it an honor to serve at her side. Keksa responded that honor was not a river either.

The Warden returned to Nagastani with the Domina and her Lamia in tow, having officiated them as her personal guard force. Upon receiving her report, Paar Jun was astonished with both Keksa’s initiative and success, and promoted her to be his War Lord. She would answer to none but the First Koh-Nassa, and even then, she derived direct authority from the Lord Conqueror himself.


	2. Chapter 2

##  Chapter 2

On the 16th of Sun’s Height, about a week afterwards, Nahkiir and her own soldiers came to visit Jun in his throne room. She stated that while her brother had indeed grown very powerful and done a great amount to secure and improve his empire, she felt that his nature was becoming disdainful to the public of the Authority. He had become quite literally heartless, lived in the realm of a Daedra, made consort with a Flame Princess, had a coven of wild women as his advisors, and drained the lands of warriors to fuel his warmongering. Many Argonians, Tsolko-Waj among them, thought that he had turned away from the Hist in his pursuit of power, and while he now had support amongst the Dunmer and Nords, his own people were no longer so keen to be under his rule. Nahkiir told him that the Hist had spoken with her and given her a divine task. She and her loyal soldiers were to be beacons of righteousness for her people, blessed by the Hist themselves to become arbiters of peace throughout the Combined Ebonheart Authority. She would give up her sadistic and vicious ways that brought her so much excitement for the sake of her people, following the original rhetoric that first urged Jun to action four years before.

When questioned how, she presented the taproot of the rare Spriggan Nirnkeeper that had been soaked in the sap of a Hist, and announced she wanted her heart to be replaced with it. Paar Jun knew better than to disrespect the wishes of the Hist. It was true that he no longer swore his loyalty to them, his amber heart preventing him from death and his soul pledged to Apocrypha, however he still respected their wisdom. His only reservation was discovering exactly how to perform the surgery, and so he called upon Ulkrah again. He did not want to botch the operation and kill his only sister and most decorated fighter.

The Hagraven had far more to complain about. She hated Spriggans with a passion, and so the idea of replacing a heart with a taproot was beyond repulsive. The witches of her coven shrieked that Ulkrah was impeding progress and were more than willing to go through with the operation, as the taproots were more closely related to a briar seed than to a heart stone. Still, the Hagraven remained unmoved. She squawked that their briar heart rituals were only successful due to their prayers to Hircine, a fact the witches must have clearly forgotten as they seemed to forsake their old Prince. It could not be denied that the coven had fallen deeply under the influence of Hur Momora during their time in the Palace. They wore nearly nothing, forsaking their furs and instead covering themselves in the thick black ink of the realm. They painted golden speckles and lulling eyes into their stained skin, dotted with horizontal pupils. What accessories they still wore were scavenged from throughout Apocrypha: scales off the hulking fish-kin Lurkers, chitin peeled from a whispering brain urn, the mottled cloak of a deceased Seeker, the blank cover of a book with its pages torn away, a necklace of oozing fangs and twitching tendrils, and the toothy maw of some slain slithering abomination left in the wake of one of the Champion’s exploits, just to name a few. Their sticks of feather and bone had been replaced by staves of slimy black metal with a head of waggling tentacles or a mass of golden eyes. The witches screamed at the old Blackplume that she had become blind to the importance of knowledge and was now a barrier to their learning. They descended furiously upon the Hagraven, ripping at her flesh and clawing her eyes out with their fingers. They did not even bother to use their staves or magic, just fingers and blind anger. They tore off viscera by the handfuls. Eventually they stepped away from the carcass, their bodies in nearly as much blood as slime. With Ulkrah dead, the witches were free to do as they pleased and renamed themselves to Pupils of the Ink, forsaking Hircine and pledging themselves fully to Hermaeus Mora.

The ferocity of the feral coven made Nahkiir wary, though she was at least glad that they were willing to go through with her surgery. She tried to calm her nerves by reminding herself that her brother had survived the operation, and he would not let them butcher her. However, Jun interfered before they could begin, much to his sister’s chagrin, and insisted that they attempt to combine the taproot with the Vakka stones. He hoped that just as the connection to Aetherius had gifted him an exceptional connection to the Red Mountain, it would grant Nahkiir an equivalent connection to the Hist. The Pupils crowed at the order but remained beholden to his wishes, and the coven spent the next few months digging through the Palace library for tomes on the arcanophysiology of Spriggans and performing experiments on captured subjects.

In the meantime, Nahkiir informed Jun of her work within the Authority borders. She and the remainders of the Occupation Force had been incredibly effective at putting down civil disturbances across their territory. She had requested reports from the guard captains of every major city to be set to her at the end of each month concerning the status of their hold. She and her loyal soldiers would then split into teams and roll through the most threatened areas, clearing out bandit camps, vampire nests, and all kinds of monsters. However, political tensions were far more difficult to wrangle.

In the Reach, King Madanach had died with no clear heir. His steward, a shrewd but soft spoken Reachman by the name of Callogoh served as his regent in the interim, but was hesitant to take the throne. While he dragged his feet, the people rallied behind a loud opposing voice. Faenach Antlercrown had been a ruthless witchblade among the Forsworn, and accused Madanach of becoming soft in his old age and selling his brethren out to the overbearing Authority. She wanted to make extensive reforms to cement the Reach’s cultural independence and take back the silver mines that were bleeding the province dry of wealth, though it was clear that this would be a slippery slope to her calling for independence. In her wake, attacks on Nord merchants on the roads increased. Nahkiir refrained from simply crushing the dissidents and their leader, as doing so would only prove their rhetoric, and assumed that her brother would be able to demonstrate a bit more tact. However, Jun believed there was a simpler solution.

On the 23rd of Sun’s Height, the Mulzeymah grabbed the Pupils from their studies and dragged them through a portal to Markarth, where he caught Faenach in the middle of one of her riling speeches. The witchblade mocked Jun for arriving, suggesting he was scared of the Reachmen being organized. He scoffed that were it not for him, they would not be organized in the first place, and allowed the coven to address the crowd. They spoke in the tongue of their people as they had once done as shamans, urging them to see the inherent supremacy of Jun as they did. They spoke at length about his gifts, though their rhetoric was confusing and seemed to refer more to Hur Momora than his Champion. Still, they preached that the Reach as a whole had only flourished under the Authority, and they would be fools to back out on it now. Faenach accused the Lord Conqueror of turning the coven to madness, gesturing to their strange garments and lack thereof. He turned around and accused her and her followers of being little more than petty children. Were it not for him, the Reach would still be in Nordic hands. He _gave_ them independence, he _gave_ them autonomy, and he _gave_ leadership back to them. The Reachmen would be little more than savages in the hills were it not for the Authority, and the fact that he saw fit to allow them to rule themselves was an act of unparalleled generosity. Jun ordered the people to remember this simple fact, lest he someday come to regret his gift. He then struck Faenach with a fist of flames to send her flailing into the Karth river, installed Callogoh on the throne with Tsuchus as his advisor, and departed in a huff.

Antlercrown was carried by the river through the rapids and deep into the Reach by the time she could make it to the bank, alive, though with a face mauled by burn scars. She cursed Jun and crawled into a cave to recuperate from the ordeal. In the following weeks, he, his sister, and her soldiers discovered and put down pockets of Reachman supremacists hiding in the hills under the guise of taking down bandits. They put down only a few camps before the ravagers apparently disappeared overnight, and the situation was suspected to be resolved.

Eventually, word came from the Pupils of Ink that they had discovered the proper methods to combine the Vakka stone with the taproot, creating a petrified root. Her operation was scheduled for the 10th of Last Seed. As with Jun, Nahkiir’s surgery resulted in a startling metamorphosis. Roots sprouted from the implant and sunk deep into her chest. The horns of her head flair were stained bright red like the thorns of a rose against her green skin, and patches of scales across her body thickened into bark-like growths. This cords like vines curled around her limbs, diving under and out of her skin down to her hands, feet, and the tip of her tail, then hardened over. Stalks shot out of her face and spread over her flint mask, chipping and squeezing until the stone shattered, leaving an exact wooden replica in its place. Nahkiir gasped awake and sprung like a snapped bow to her feet. She marveled at the growths over her body, stating that she could feel the cords pumping with sap as she moved, lending hydraulic force to every action. In the middle of speaking, she paused and looked at nothing for a moment. Jun asked her if something was wrong, and she replied that she could hear the Hist speaking to her through the root in her chest. She had been granted the means to protect the marsh and beyond, and was to induct more righteous warriors to her cause.

Her first choice for subjects came from the Authority taskforce she had been heading for nearly two and a half years. She demonstrated to them the grand power she had been granted and how she planned to use it, most of which overlapped with their current operations. These soldiers had heard of the exploits of her brother’s Ambercore and many still bore complete loyalty to the Hist. Of the forty-six that first rejected Jun, forty-two accepted Nahkiir’s offer, along with over a dozen of her newer recruits. The normal Argonian soldiers who made up her ranks were given standard taproots while those select Xiuthans were given taproots from Matron Spriggans, with each one soaked in Hist sap to specially attune them to the trees and infused with a Vakka stone to petrify them.

These Root Rangers, as they would come to be known, had far different powers than those of the Ambercore. Their strength and speed were even more formidable, though cutting their sap cords could cripple this. However, much as the Ambercore had a knack for fire, the Root Rangers could channel the power of their taproot to heal themselves and others with ease, able to quickly mend wounds that would have been difficult for even experts in restoration magic. So long as their petrified root remained intact, the Wardens could even be brought back from the brink of death. They could regrow lost limbs, albeit very slowly, and the new part would be the fleshless animate wood of a Spriggan rather than their old bone and scales. The Wardens also were able to make use of a kind of rudimentary telepathy between each other and the Hist. This proved especially useful as a way to coordinate their attacks, as Wardens across provinces would be able to instantly communicate with the rest of their team and relay information. This combination of skills made the Root Rangers into perfect peacekeepers, always staying one step ahead of the problems and having the power to dissipate any threats to the Authority. Combined with Riigahliiv and the other Dov loyal to Nahkiir, they had the mobility to travel across the entire Authority in a matter of hours.

The full might of the Wardens would come to light during the Disaster of Fathom Crack. On the 18th of Hearthfire, a rogue member of the Grey Fathom tried to replicate the Ambercore’s mastery over Red Mountain by conducting a profane ritual high on the slopes above Sadrith Mora. He failed in his attempt to awaken the Red Mountain at his command, though the shockwave of his piercing blow traveled through the magma of the mountain and caused an explosion on the other side of the volcano. The colossal leak of ash and lava spewed over the partially excavated city of Ald’Ruhn and caused an avalanche of ash and fire. Jun and his Ambercore worked to plug the hole in the Mountain while Nahkiir and her Root Rangers tried to get the Dunmer to safety. They managed to evacuate some of the workers, but more sought shelter in the manor district inside the shell of an ancient emperor crab. The lava flows cut off their escape, so Nahkiir ordered her fellow Rangers to retreat while she tended to those trapped within.

The shell of the Under-Skar had only been partially excavated, leaving hardly enough room between the roof and ash to walk. The Dunmer huddled together under the apex of the shell as the heat within steadily increased, confident that since it had survived the Red Year they would be safe. The thick chitin above squeaked and groaned. More than just heavy ash, it was now being subjected to a flood of burning molten rock flowing directly overhead, and the strained shell began to buckle and sag at its peak. Nahkiir braced herself underneath and used her newfound brawn to force it back. Her feet began to sink into the ash below as the weight piled on, so she widened her stance and dug her tail in for support, then shoved with all her strength to keep the shell aloft. Still the flow forced her down. The shell began to pop and crack above her, close to giving way. The Xiuthan roared with agony and effort, drawing on every ounce of her being to shove the roof back into place. Her eyes and root began to glow vibrant green as she shouted, growths sprouting from her legs and tail to dig into the ash. Vines slithered from her palms across the shell to fill in the cracks as they formed. The burden became unbearable, her knees ready to explode from the sheer mass above. Still she refused to relent for even a moment. Roots burst from the ground and knotted with the vines above to form an organic cage beneath the shell as spouts of lava began to drip from the fragmenting chitin. The Dunmer scrambled underneath, contributing their strength to hold the pillars up. Her legs and tail became thick trunks of wood, her arms coated in mounds of fibrous green musculature to heft the mountain of molten stone aloft. Nahkiir had grown the equivalent of a full miregaunt around herself to lift the mass, yet still she strained. Her excruciating exertion paid off, as slowly the shell began to rise. With a final mighty push, she forced the peak of the shell back into place as the plant matter hardened solid to hold it. The wood around her limbs splintered and broke as she collapsed unconscious out of the cage and onto the ash below.

It took hours for the Ambercores to dig the entrance out once they had stopped the flow and free the people who had been nearly cooked alive inside. Despite their injuries, they still carried out Nahkiir as their hero. Her brother regarded the young Mulzeymah with pride and worry as her Rangers hurriedly tended to her, though they confirmed that with some sustained healing work and serious long rest she would be alright. Still, they anticipated that she would be pretty weak for a while afterwards, as becoming the direct conduit for the Hist had put a serious strain on her body. The Dunmer cheered her as their savior and thanked Jun for stopping the flow before it could consume Ald’Ruhn completely.

When Nahkiir had recovered enough, she decided to return home to Xiutha with her fellow Rangers. Vulthurzin was pleased to see many of his old neighbors back after nearly half a decade away, though their new forms upset him. Nahkiir asked the Dov to forgive her, for she had seen the error of her violent ways and now devoted her skills to protect the people of the empire her brother had built. She asked him to educate her in Harmony, so she may serve the Hist both in mind and in body. The old Dov was hesitant, still bitter from the disrespect of the Koh-Nassa, but acknowledged the genuine nature of her actions. He agreed to mentor her once again, in the peace of the monastery. Nahkiir decided to convert Xiutha into the bastion of her Rangers, so they could remain close to the Hist of Toh-Dimik and the Dov who communed with it. They spent weeks refitting their home to serve their purposes, cultivating the vines and flora around the xanmeer, and converting some of their unused training yards into mediation gardens with gentle water features. Faithful Argonians from across Black Marsh migrated there, using the serene landscape to become closer to the Hist. Occasionally Spriggans would arrive and curiously follow the Rangers around, attracted by their petrified hearts. Sometimes they even accompanied them into battle. When new initiates were chosen to join the ranks, one of the veteran Root Rangers would lead one of the Spriggans away from the others and into Jun’s Palace so they could be harvested for the new recruit without incurring the ire of the others.

The wood-faced Mulzeymah received word not long after settling in her old home that Veysan had finally arrived in Lilmoth. She took the opportunity to greet the fellow Xiuthan, as it had been too long since she had seen him last. On the journey to the coastal city, she and Riigahliiv recounted the last time they had sailed with the Warden. During her elder brother's vacation to Infernace, Nahkiir and Veysan had embarked on a mission to crush a Leimenid concert raising a furious storm. The icy Nereids were trying to bring a second Great Collapse to Winterhold and plunge the whole of Skyrim's Hsaarik Head into the sea, but together they slayed the water spirits and saved the northern hold from certain destruction. She had asked Magrah to make him a sword to commemorate their victory, a sweeping cutlass to replace the favored blade he had lost in Btharzaleft a few months prior. She recognised the sword immediately upon arriving at the Lilmoth docks, though not necessarily the Argonian who held it. His scales were a hint bluer than she remembered, and ritual scars of intricate knots decorated his chest and arms, bare in the humid climate of home. His flagship and crew were also markedly different, as his brig had been replaced by a huge galleon with a bladed ivory hull and decks stocked with tall men of silver skin and rowdy tempers. She greeted him warmly, noting his new look, though when he turned to meet her, he excitedly grabbed her in a hug and remarked that he was not the only one. 

He left his crew to finish unloading the ship and invited Nahkiir into the captains quarters with promises of Roscrean Rum and tales from faraway lands. The two talked for hours, drinking and swapping stories of their adventures since he had departed. According to Veysan, his fleet of ships had just left Raven Rock in order to put down a gang of pirates that were rumored to be making camp north of the island. They left the northern coast of Solstheim for open waters in good spirits, though it was not long before they were caught in the mother of all storms. The fleet was broken apart and his own ship was snapped in half by the fury of the waves. Once the storm subsided, he and his few surviving crew found themselves shipwrecked on a colossal iceberg in the middle of nowhere. They were convinced this was their end, with no food to eat, no way to get back, and nothing to keep off the wind chill. They were forced to burn the last of their timbers just to stave off frostbite. However, the smoke from their fire drew the attention of others on the iceberg: Sea Giants! The massive chunk of ice was not some uninhabited waste, but a full floating port town called Bastra Nagh. The Giants discovered the shipwreck on the far side of the iceberg and captured the survivors, unsure what to do with them. They had never seen Argonians before, and vice versa. Thankfully, Veysan had spent his downtime after the Battle of Blacklight playing cards with Gerthok and managed to pick up some Giantish, mostly profanities from when the big brute lost. Though the Sea Giants spoke a slightly more nuanced dialect, they understood enough to communicate and seemed equally fond of vulgarity. He managed to explain that he was the captain of a great navy and been caught off guard by the storm, and the Giants noted that even on the relative stability of the iceberg the tempest had been a fierce one. They took pity on the sailors and allowed them to stay in the port, so long as they helped with the work. 

Bastra Nagh was a marvel unlike any Veysan had encountered. Not only was it an iceberg, but it was a moblie island home for the Sea Giants. It could even be directed from the helm by the Captain of the town, a gritty seadog by the name of Jyruun. Sea Giants and their shorter Half-Giant cousins lived in busy harmony to keep the whole town operational: butchering whale, horker, and huge fishy leviathans for food; tanning hides, cleaning bones, and polishing scales for armor; boiling fats into oil to keep their fires burning; and of course repairing and tinkering with their gargantuan longboats. At night when the winds turned lethal, they retreated indoors to the communal brewcave to relax after a hard days work, which for the Giants meant drinking, fighting, and mounting one another, sometimes all at once. As a contributing member of the town, the Argonians were included in the festivities, though the sheer mass and strength of the locals meant that they could outperform them in most aspects. Still, Veysan remarked that he would be remiss to say he did not enjoy it. The choice of alcohol for the Giants, when they could not get grain ale from land, was a kind of fermented nectar called Gollag collected from barnacles on the underside of the iceberg, and drunken from a hollowed tusk or long tooth. It was an acquired taste, for sure, but stronger than a stallion's kick. A single tusk of the stuff could get even the stockiest Nord tumbling like an infant, and got the Giants either exceptionally aggressive or amorous. His training with the Mulzeymah made him good if a fight broke out his way, and though he was pitiable in an unarmed brawl, he could fairly consistently outduel them with a sword, depending how much both parties had drunk. He was less suited when things turned affectionate, as he noted that even the Half-Giant women were too much to handle. Nahkiir teased if the same was true for the men, and he responded by downing his cup of rum.

Due to his stories as a corsair captain with the Authority, Captain Jyruun offered him the chance to join on one of the Sea Giants' grand whaling hunts. Veysan would only serve as a deckhand, but still the opportunity was too good to pass up. While most of the Giant's ships were large longboats for raiding coastlines, they had specialized vessels for hunting whales. These ships were large, dense, and heavily armored, with heavy bladed prows to slice through any ice flows they encountered. Jyruun had Veysan assigned to his ship amongst the three hunter vessels, likely so that the other experienced whalers could pick up his slack without much of an issue, but that just meant he was also closer to the action. They reached a deep channel of open ocean with waves like broken obsidian, so black it sucked the color out of everything and left the world muted, with shimmers of white foam like reflected light on the sharp crests as if only to prove the earth had turned monochromatic. Here they stowed the sails, and the Captain revealed a twisted horn of ancient skeletal coral. He placed the flare of the instrument in the water and blew. The call was so deep that the Argonian could feel the tone vibrate his bones and sing in his blood. Had he been in the water, he believed it would have boiled his brain. Despite the raw sound, it seemed to entice the whales, for within a matter of moments the seas churned with the arrival of one of the monstrous mammals. The Giants cheered and readied their hooked harpoons, shouting that this was a big one even by their standards. Jyruun remarked that Veysan was lucky to see such a beast on his first hunt, then called for his men to strike. They threw dozens of spears into the flesh of the monster and pulled taut the attached ropes of tight spun gut to drag the ships up alongside it. Cutters with heavy knives leapt to the rigging, ready to pounce upon the beast and begin carving once in range. Their ship sidled up on the starboard side, nearly on top of it. The whale bellowed and twisted, slamming its incredible tail into the water in pain. Then, it tried to roll. Ropes snapped and the vessels were shoved away by the wake of the thrashing monster, all but Jyruun's ship which had instead been reeled in closer and smashed into the whale. Their ropes remained stuck fast in the beast, though half of the crew had been thrown overboard by the sheer force of it. Veysan had been flung into a low side wall, but the much taller Captain had gone tumbling over and left the helm unmanned. Tasting freedom, the whale shot forward. The Xiuthan had only gotten up to see if the Captain had survived when the whole ship jerked and was dragged off along behind the fleeing monster. He managed to stand as the ship raced forward, and grabbed the rudder as it whipped back and forth. Using Ziirokein techniques to absorb and counter the wild swings of the shaft, he strained to keep some manner of control. Instinctively he began barking orders, urging the crew to loosen the fore mast from its housing then cut the port side rigging. The remaining crew jumped into action as Veysan fought to point the ship hard to starboard, responding to the authority of the shouts rather than who they came from. The freed mast twisted in its housing, tugging against the ropes that kept it straight. A crewman grabbed a remaining harpoon and slashed through the port rigging, causing it to tilt starboard and topple. The topsail yard speared the abdomen of the whale and brought it to a grinding halt, though the ship continued to race forward. The rudder shoved full starboard and the ropes stretched as the prow spun around and cleaved through the monster's neck. The whale was dead. 

The other vessels had righted themselves and collected the swimming sailors, including the Captain. He was astonished that someone so small could have slain something so big, especially when it had bested the Sea Giants. Jyruun admitted that upon seeing the whale pull away with his ship, he believed it as good as gone; the monster would dive and both his prized vessel and town's whale hunting horn would be lost to the depths. Veysan had saved him from this dishonor, and killed a record beast in the process. Since he had already accepted bereavement from the ship, he granted it to the Warden as thanks. Bastra Nagh celebrated their victory for an entire week without interruption. The Xiuthan mentioned that he drank so much Gollag that he hardly remembered it, though had a faint memory of singing broken sea shanties with some of the crew on top of the whale carcass, and possibly falling through its blowhole and passing out inside its mouth. The vessel was eventually repaired and renamed _The Headsman_ in recognition. Veysan was sad to leave the icy port behind, but he had made such good friends with the locals during his short stay that many Half-Giants volunteered to join his crew. They had been enraptured by his stories of Tamriel, and wished to adventure across the seas in search of glory and plunder, and he was more than happy to oblige them. Captain Jyruun waved them off, and the Xiuthan pointed south towards home. 

During the voyage, the Sea Giants had given him the full scarring-honors of a reputable Captain as a mark of their respect, and the Warden had made sure they got plenty of fighting and excitement as they slaughtered malcontents all the way down the coast of Morrowind. He promised to take them wamasu hunting now they were in Black Marsh, and asked Nahkiir if she would like to accompany them. Massive menfolk were all well and good, but he was not ashamed to say he missed seeing a face like hers. Nahkiir slyly suggested that she would consider his offer, what with her busy schedule and all. Though, she remarked, setting up in Xiutha put her close enough to Lilmoth to spare a visit or two his way. Veysan clinked her cup with a smirk and named it a date. 


	3. Chapter 3

##  Chapter 3

Back in Skyrim, Hahfrin and his team were on the verge of a breakthrough. Their investigations into the automata of the Dwemer had been steadily progressing, especially due to the abundance of material and minds at their disposal. The Reclamation forces had secured the Silent City years ago, but under the direction of the Master Artificer it had been converted from a fortress against the Falmer to a haven for aspiring mages, drawing students and researchers from all corners of the Authority. The academy was far more temperate than the frigid College in Winterhold and was easily better equipped than the reconstructed Sadrith Mora. Experts gave lectures on everything from daedric biology to theoretical arcanomechanics to causal hypocrisy, and every subject in between. The Silent Campus became the foremost center of magical study on the mainland of Tamriel since the height of the Mages Guild in the mid-Second Era, with undergraduate work assisting the artificers with their reverse engineering projects. Every year volunteers could join a research expedition to distant ruins in Morrowind, High Rock, or even as far as the deserts of Hammerfell. Hahfrin had approved these trips because they provided a wealth of fabulous specimens and fostered loyalty with Campus newcomers, but mostly because he enjoyed an excuse to vacation. 

Continued settlement in Blackreach would not have been possible without a staunch presence, and the strength of the Authority ensured prosperity for those remaining underground. Patrols ran constantly along Kinol's Chord, the central road that ran all the way from Nchuand-Zel in Arkthzand Cavern to Mzulft in Mzark and subsequently named for the Warden who had first secured it, connecting the east and west of Skyrim through an almost perfectly straight passage. Even merchants unaffiliated with the Campus used the underground highway to get across the province quickly. There were plans to fully automate Chord defense and eventually perhaps even transit, by creating another steam engine like the one in Btharzaleft, though they were still in the blueprint stages. Falmer reservations had been set up in the lightless hollows and grottos of the central Greymoor Cavern to keep them away from civilians, with a research bastion and Great Lift at Nchuthnkarst set up to monitor their populations and behavior. Occasionally, individuals who were magically or pacifistically inclined would be abducted and 'enslaved' to live at the Silent Campus. Though many were concerned with the ethics of the practice, suggesting that removing tempered members from their homes would only increase the overall brutality, though reports showed that more docile wild Falmer were at higher risk of tribal violence or death anyway. The Campus was in essence saving them, and though most worked only as laboratory assistants and menial dorm keepers, certain individuals were beginning to show promise of civilization.

Nimiinne in particular had become instrumental to the efforts of the master artificers, ensuring that artifacts were correctly categorized and stored, workspaces remained clean and organized, and notes were collected and properly filed. She would even be employed at times to assist in their more magically intensive experiments. Wherever Hahfrin went his standoffish executive aide would accompany him, to keep track of the countless mundane things the bronze-faced obsessive inevitably forgot. Her sour and adversarial disposition meant that she was never bothered with news of the trivial and unimportant, leaving the Master Artificer free to focus on solely pressing matters. As such, his team had made discovery after discovery as to the functionality of the machines, and believed they were closing in on the key to true automation. After nearly two years of strictly dedicated study with the best minds in Authority lands, the secret to constructing the machines was nearly within their grasp. 

Hahfrin hypothesized that the dynamo cores of some of the animunculi contained trace amounts of refined Aetherium in order to power them. He attempted to connect the core of a deactivated steam centurion with a Vakka stone, hoping that the aetheric energy of one would interact with that of the other in a measurable way and reveal how the power was dispersed throughout the construct. His experiment proved to be a success and the team collected valuable data as to the twisting filament channels through which the energy was harnessed. However, the Master Artificer decided to push the experiment further and actually meld the stone and core together to overcharge its output. He hoped that would allow them to detect even the tiniest steam capillaries within the construct, but the two materials reacted violently. Steam began to burst out of cracks between the armor plates as the machine shuddered uncontrollably and the artificers ran for safety. Hahfrin instead tried to pry the Vakka stone away to halt the reaction, but it was stuck fast. Aetheric power spiked as the the fused material reached critical mass for full meltdown. The core detonated and shredded the construct apart in an azure blast. Steam and shrapnel erupted through the laboratory and rained on the artificers and their attendants. The blast caught Hahfrin square on, slicing his left arm clean off and imbedding his flesh with chunks of warped metal. His chest had been practically carved open and organs laced with piecing shards of shattered centurion, and the rest of his body had been singed by the blast of raw aetheric radiation, leaving his scales with severe luminescent burns. The bronze mask had been gouged badly by the flying metal, with nearly half sliced from his face. The artificers rushed out of hiding to help him and cast every healing spell they knew to stop the blood loss, but he was still fading on the edge of consciousness. With his only hand, he grabbed at Calcelmo and pointed at the mangled hulk before passing out.

The Altmer looked to the steaming wreck of the centurion and noticed another intact dynamo on the shelves behind it. The red aura of the core leaked out and began swirling around the mangled remains of the machine. A number of mechanical Dwemer spiders jumped out of their ports and rushed over to the centurion, seemingly attracted by it, and began picking up the pieces to fit them to the hulk. In a spark of inspiration, Calcelmo retrieved the core and placed it over Hahfrin’s body. The spiders ceased their activities and clattered over to him, inspecting the damage. After but a moment, they busied themselves pulling out chunks of shrapnel and clamping the gashes closed so that the artificer’s healing spells could repair them. One of them snatched the arm of a Dwemer sphere that had been destroyed in the blast and began fitting it to the Hahfrin’s severed stump.

However, the spiders could not do anything about the damage to his heart, liver, or lungs. Falion looked back and forth, from the core in Calcelmo’s hands to Hahfrin, and with no better alternative in sight, he had Agni help him pull the gap in his chest even wider. The spiders dove in, removing the tiny shards of metal and pieces of shattered bone from his lungs and sealing them back up again with the help of the rest of the mages healing spells. Falion took one of the sharper shreds of centurion and, with a silent prayer, cut out the Xiuthan’s deflated heart. Calcelmo exchanged a hesitant glance with his fellow artificer, then jammed the dynamo into the gouged hole in his chest. The healing spells closed the skin around the core’s frame, but Hahfrin remained motionless. The artificers dropped to their knees in defeat, sure that they had just killed him. The lone Falmer watching over them heard the sorrow in their sighs, and clenched her needle teeth below a crinkled scowl. She felt her face twinge where once there might have been eyes, and closed her hands over the retrieved fragment of his mask. Agni looked at the dynamo spinning laboriously in the Xiuthan's chest, and in a last-ditch effort, snatched one of their remaining Vakka stones. She funneled a great bolt of lightning through the crystal, hoping to overcharge the core with aetheric energy just as they had done once before. The bolt struck the dynamo, and Hahfrin’s entire body heaved. His eyes shot open, and he sucked air as though he had been drowning.

And then the screaming began.

Two days later, on the 6th of Frostfall, Hahfrin emerged from proper surgery in his brother’s laboratory. While the Pupils of Ink had been able to correct the mistakes made in his emergency operation, in truth it was a joint effort. The artificers were brought on to provide technological expertise, and a pair of his sister's Root Rangers who were specialists in intensive restoration magic had been called to handle the delicate reconstruction of his lungs and other organs. Together, they created a stable cavity for the empowered dynamo core to rest in to ensure its aura remained in contact with his flesh to keep him alive, though equally protected so his arteries would not immediately burst when no longer sustained by healing spells. They also made sure to bolt the gyro housing to his ribs so it was properly secure, as well as connecting the power to his new metal forearm so he could actually use it. Jun commissioned a custom Dwemer metal chest piece from Magrah with some long robes to hide his burn scars, and a new mask of similar make to replace the broken original. Like Nahkiir, he was more reliant on his own abilities now than that of his mask and was not impaired without it, though regardless he remained sentimental over its loss. Decades under a face covering had made him feel deeply uncomfortable without it

Jun lamented the time spent away from his most intelligent sibling, and took the opportunity to catch up while he recovered. They discussed theory and theology over intellectual board games like the mathematical _Angles and Arcs_ or the more strategic _Spoils of War_. Each brother was more inclined to one game than the other, though they had remarkable competency in both. Hahfrin eventually opened up about the politics of the Silent Campus. The student body was undeniably brilliant, though the nature of a free forum of ideas led to a considerable amount of idealist civic activism. Many showed opposition to the Authority, in concept and practice, and the handling of Falmer was the topic of fierce debates daily. Jun asserted that argument was the first step to understanding, and that only by discussing these ideas could they be properly explored. They should not worry about fostering internal disloyalty, as the encouragement of critical consideration would lead any objective thinker to conclude that the Authority had the most to offer Tamriel. 

The brothers went on to discuss Jun's own plans for the Authority as of late. The Lord Conqueror had been studying Cyrodiil extensively while his War Lord dug deeper into the land, looking for a quick and easy way to conquer the province without having to endure a long war with the Legion. His objective was the Imperial City, but there was no overland way to decisively capture it without a protracted siege beforehand. Even though Keksa’s camps were situated close to the three main bridges into the city, storming through such a bottleneck would be suicide by Legion. The city was also surrounded by water, suggesting the tactics used in Riften and Morthal could potentially apply, but moving and supplying a fleet of Argonian warships up the Niben river would raise the alarm as they passed through Leyawiin and the entire Imperial Navy would be roused to sink them before they could get halfway to Bravil. This, however, gave Hahfrin an idea. They spent a few days ironing out the basics of a plan, before Hahfrin gathered his artificers once again with typical obsessive zeal and closed them up in the Laboratory to work without interruption. The chamber quickly became littered with elaborate sketches, schematics, and models. Jun would often come to check on them, lending a pair of fresh eyes to any problems they encountered, then returned to Caldra and his war table to devise how best to implement this new creation. Magrah was escorted into the Palace to deliver the commissioned armor for Hafrin, and was quickly flocked by the artificers and their questions on the specifics of particular alloy strengths and their susceptibility to oxidation or corrosion. Finally, after another week of intensive thought and scrapped ideas, they had perfected the invention. The schematics were were sent to Lilmoth, where Veysan was to oversee production in the local shipbuilders.

However, Jun kept Hahfrin in his Palace for a few more days afterwards to discuss a very particular, and very potent, aspect of his research. The Master Artificer found the notion ridiculous, until they began discussing possible applications. What Jun proposed was a contraption far more complex and dangerous than any they had considered before. Hahfrin was conflicted. Even a prototype, he suggested, would take months to develop in secret. There was no way they could have something functional and tested for use on the Imperial City, though Jun assured him that such a creation would be useful afterwards, perhaps even more so. Curiosity overrode his bias and Hahfrin returned to Mzark and his artificers with their order, which they looked upon with both excitement and confusion due to its sensitive nature. The Xiuthan insisted that every discovery was useful in the right circumstances, and was eager to get started. He was forced to delay it a night, however, as Nimiinne had baked him an exquisite charuus-meat pie to celebrate his non-death. Hahfrin was touched by the gesture and thanked her heartily for the gift, though she just scoffed that Agni mentioned it from a book and this was merely an excuse to try it out, nothing more. She neglected to mention the dozens of failed attempts at blind pie-making she had thrown away, nor how she had labored every day since she heard he was alive to try and get it right.

A report from none other than Kinol drew the Lord Conqueror's attention back to the ashen province, and he traveled to Blacklight to meet with the Warden in person. He was rightly surprised by his superior's sudden arrival though more than happy to provide his report personally, especially if it meant he would follow Keksa out of provisional governance. The Warden glossed over some petty conflicts that had occurred as Dunmer resistance to the Authority, though noted that they were put down quickly enough. The Ashlander tribes were the only notable pockets of opposition, but the wasteland nomads had been historically xenophobic and never cause any fuss to the Empire's presence, so he figured it was better to just leave them alone. Tensions between the Great Houses were rough, though not unmanageably so. House Dres was upset that their saltrice plantations were performing poorly, and paying Argonian workers instead of just using them as slaves was draining their coffers. They were equally unhappy that House Redoran’s egg mines were becoming prosperous, accusing them of sabotaging their farms to dominate the agricultural market. Redoran soldiers had been steadily replacing Authority troops in the forts around Morrowind, freeing up soldiers for Keksa's mysterious endeavor. House Sadras had been flourishing, with ebony mines opening across Vvardenfell in the wake of the Taming of Red Mountain. The Telvanni were also returning to prominence and had opened mushroom farms across the peninsula at Master Dranis' request. House Indoril was rooting out a heretical cult within the House that claimed that Paar Jun, Nahkiir, and Hahfrin were reincarnations of the False Tribunal gods of Vivec, Almalexia, and Sotha Sil respectively, which the Ebonheart found quite amusing. 

Kinol noted that his enforcer Nahvulkein had been instrumental in putting down reaver camps across the province wherever they sprung up. Ebony from Solstheim had been a particular target for them, but he made sure it continued to reach the forges on the mainland. However, he mentioned that the Reiklings of the island had remained pests, as they fled into their caves whenever Nahvulkein passed overhead. He had taken inspiration from his predecessor and tried to talk with them, though that ended in pointy failure. Instead, he followed Jun’s example with the Giants and offered a live Reikling to Hur Momora to learn their language, though he had not anticipated the complexity of it. As a result, when he sought out one of their chiefs to form an alliance, he found himself not debating terms of strength but the philosophy of leadership. Kinol met with the leader of Moesring Pass named Khaafiimilek, and the two talked for hours on the nature of rule and the Lord Conqueror the Warden served. Kinol was astounded by the articulate chief, and the chief was likewise interested in the benefits an alliance with the Reclamation could provide. The Riekling and a number of his tribe accompanied the Warden back to Raven Rock, where Khaafiimilek learned about the customs of modern Tamrielic culture. Rieklings had always collected random and useless items to fuel their culture, but here certain items had more value than others. Here they learned that the Authority had been steadily replacing septims with their own minted gold coins, called scales due to their more oblong shape. Khaafiimilek realized that the more scales he amassed the more things he could buy.

Immediately the Riekling became obsessed with gaining as much wealth as possible, so he could buy the most things. He moved the majority of his tribe into the ruined buildings outside Raven Rock and set them to work in the mines. For his most respected warriors he bought ill-fitting greensteel armor and marched across the island to the other camps to prove their strength and gather more potential workers. Most of his kind were desperately primitive and unintelligent, so he devised a few simple mantras to integrate them into the workforce: 1. He who owns a beast and has warriors is a chief. 2. Keep only one gold per finger when you are paid, give the rest to your chief. 3. Follow a Thing Hunter like a Meat Hunter. Do as they say to get gold for your chief.

Soon the mine became infested with the hardy little workers. Khaafiimilek’s warriors were better equipped than the other tribes, and through a violent campaign he won the right to rule them all. However, now the Dunmer miners complained that the Rieklings were pushing them out of their jobs, and Kinol forced most of the goblin-ken to find different ways to get the gold they so desperately craved. They worked in the docks loading ships with cargo, and it was not long before a few joined crews for the merchants. Rieklings soon began popping up in shipyards across the Authority. They were compact, sturdy, and there seemed to be no limit of them coming from Solstheim. Small pocket tribes appeared in Skyrim and Morrowind with their own chiefs rising to power. These Rieklings found work as farm hands, miners, builders, and manual laborers. A few wizards in Morrowind bought Rieklings as servants for their towers, though most of the notable Wizard Lords thought them to be ugly and unseemly. One chief was caught chopping fingers off newborns so he could collect more money from them later on, but he was subsequently killed and replaced. As for Khaafiimilek, he would eventually go on to waste all his money drowning himself in Sujamma in Raven Rock’s local corner club.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Book 5 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29131950/chapters/71516772


End file.
